


Rug

by PeachyKeen_WithCream



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Drabble, F/F, F/M, Floor Sex, Multi, OT3, Threesome - F/F/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyKeen_WithCream/pseuds/PeachyKeen_WithCream
Summary: Angel and Psylocke continue checking up on her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own 'X-Men' nor am I profiting off this.

Ororo prefers the rug to the bed. The rug pales in comparison to the markets of Cairo; housing enormous flowers and dusty on the edges, but plush enough to be comfortable. The bedroom is still unfamiliar with strange clothes and furniture and striped wallpaper. Psylocke stands ramrod straight, eyes flicking around the room as she unzips her boots. 

Angel stumbles across the rug, bare chested, still unaccustomed to the regrowth of his old wings, a literal baby bird. Ororo wraps her fingers around his wrist, careful as she tugs him down onto the rug. 

“I am fine here,” she says, running her free hand along the sides of his scalp. “I like this place.” 

Adjusting and settling takes a moment. Stray feathers scatter with an infuriated sounding flutter as he stretches out a wing. Ororo straddles him, ignoring her heart hammering in her chest. A stroke of her fingers over scars from the battle and from fights before their time earn a feathery slap against her arm. A soft scrape of her teeth across his nipple earns a groan, hands bunching her tank top. 

Psylocke moves with confident steadiness as her coat slides from her shoulders, dress pooling at her ankles in a puddle of black fabric. She hopscotches her way across the flowers, tights shushing as her legs rub together. Freckles mix with the scars - dotting her shoulders, down her spine and tops of her breasts. The skin of her waist is smooth save for the thatch of curls visible through the sheer fabric of her tights. 

“You’re both wearing far too many clothes.” She says, balancing between a pair of roses mere inches away from their spot in the middle of the rug. 

“Do you plan on joining us?” Ororo asks, flicking her tongue across Angel’s nipple.  


Psylocke smiles, shrugging as she slides a hand across her breast and moves down her stomach into her tights. 

“I can manage myself.” 

Ororo glances between her and Angel, their pupils blown wide, black as spilt ink with flushes highlighting their cheeks. Ororo smiles, listening to the murmurs of curses and fluttering of feathers tickling at her skin. 

A shudder passes through her body as whispers of Betsy and Warren fall into the cursing and fluttering.


End file.
